


Pride

by weepingwillow



Series: Merlin Memory Month Fics [9]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 19:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10928265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepingwillow/pseuds/weepingwillow
Summary: Five Pride parades where Arthur was single, and one where he wasn't





	Pride

“Where the hell is he?” Morgana muttered to the her current girlfriend. Arthur could hear her frustration through the phone.

 

“You know I can hear you, right?”

 

“I’m glad,” she snapped, “Who the hell thinks they can get down Oxford Street in ten minutes through Pride crowds?”

 

“I’m on my way, alright?” Arthur said, “I can see you now, I’m nearly there.” He hung up the phone before Morgana could, and pushed through the crowd to find her, rushing before the outliers of the parade reached her. Looking up over the heads of the assembled crowd, he pinpointed the flag Morgana held, keeping it in sight as the crowd thinned and he broke into a jog.

 

And outright collided with someone else.

 

He caught the slighter man and set him back on his feet before tending to his own jarred shoulder.

 

“Is it so hard to watch where you’re going?”

 

“What about you?” the other man accused, “ _ You _ ran into  _ me _ .”

 

Arthur opened his mouth to make a witty retort but found he had nothing to say. The man was beautiful, he realised, sharp cheekbones and bright eyes and curling dark hair. And, at Pride parade, the chances were that Arthur stood a chance. He fumbled for his words but as he did his phone starting ringing, and he looked down to see that it was Morgana calling, again, desperate for the last word.

 

“Yes, Morgana,” he said, answering the phone, “I will be with you in one minute, I-”

 

He looked up, and then looked around him. The beautiful man was gone. Cursing his misfortune, but mostly Morgana, he started to push his way through the crowd once more.

 

\---

 

Arthur put his arm around Morgana’s shoulder and gave her a slight squeeze.

 

“I can’t watch,” she said tightly, fighting back tears, “She’s there, and she’s with that- that  _ whore _ -”

 

“Easy there with the cursing, witch,” Arthur said fondly, picking out Morgana’s latest ex-girlfriend from the crowd, “Big smile now, she’s coming past.”

 

The smile Morgana came up with was more scathing cold than the unconcerned smile Arthur was aiming for, but he decided that it would do. The blonde woman spotted Morgana, pursed her lips and then turned to kiss her new girlfriend. Arthur was proud when Morgana only waved her flag with more gusto.

 

But then behind the girls was a guy Arthur recognised, and he couldn’t quite think - until he caught sight of a flapping rainbow flag, and the memory came flashing back. It was the man he had run into the year previously. He raised his eyebrows in incredulity, wondering if the man remembered the encounter like Arthur did. If the scathing look the man gave him when he set eyes on Arthur was anything to go by, he did.

 

Morgana wouldn’t go down to Soho with him after the parade, so Arthur had no chance to try to find the beautiful man. Mournfully, he debated leaving Morgana to take the tube alone, but he knew the decision was already made. There was always next year.

 

\---

 

Morgana had decided to take her girlfriend of two months to Pride that year, so Arthur was left in the usual Oxford Street spot with Gwaine, his on-off fuck buddy and drinking partner since university, and Gwaine’s crowd of friends. It was better than being there alone, Arthur thought, but still pretty depressing. The whole lot of them were already off their faces drunk, and there Arthur was, standing off to one side, actually watching the parade with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans.

 

A marching band passed, and Gwaine decided it would be a great idea to start conducting them. As Arthur was rolling his eyes, he spotted a familiar gaze watching him from the front row of the opposite crowd. But it couldn’t be. Three years running was far too much of a coincidence.

 

He looked again. There were the cheekbones. He’d changed a little, bulked up perhaps. Arthur still recognised him, though.

 

Acting completely without thought, Arthur reached out to grab Gwaine by the front of his shirt. Assuring himself that the man could see him, he tugged Gwaine close to make out with him. Gwaine went loose and pliant in his arms, palming Arthur’s arse as he squeezed at Gwaine’s biceps. When Arthur finally pulled back, the man was pointedly still watching. Arthur noticed that he was cuddled up to a man with pink, blue and purple paint smeared over his cheek, though. His heart fell at that.

 

\---

 

Arthur was starting to lose all hope of ever finding himself a boyfriend. He’d crossed the line of the balance at twenty-five, now closer to thirty years old than he was to twenty. And to make matters worse, this girlfriend of Morgana’s actually seemed to be sticking. She’d been around since the last Pride; that dated the relationship as Morgana’s longest so far.

 

He’d received a pity invite to their Pride party, up on a rented balcony above Portland Place where they could watch the groups gather before the march. And so that was where he was now, standing on the balcony, nursing a glass of wine. He’d been given a plus one but since Gwaine was still his most meaningful relationship to date, had declined to invite another. One maudlin Arthur was all Morgana and her lesbian friends should have to deal with at one time.

 

He looked down at the parade, at the flowers and feathers and body paint, the leather and studs and rainbows, everywhere. He’d never felt a part of that sort of culture, tied too much to the legacy of his family history. He’d never had many gay friends, his sister really being his only tie to other people who identified as _ other than the norm _ . Them, and Pride parades, and the odd gay pub. It felt right to be removed from the marchers, supporting, but not engaging. Perhaps it was time to recognise that he needed to be removed from other things, too, he thought. That it all wasn’t entirely worth it. That he was never going to find that perfect boyfriend, that he’d always have his sister and his friends and his career, but never-

 

The sight of a familiar head of messy hair cut his thoughts short. The man was carrying what appeared to be a rolled up banner, and he seemed to be looking for someone, moving steadily through the crowd. He stepped behind drag queens with towering wigs, ducked under trailing flags, but always when he re-emerged Arthur was able to pick him out. And then he looked up.

 

It was the same man. He’d grown a shading of stubble over his jaw, but Arthur still recognised him. Even from three floors up, his eyes were mesmerising. Despite his usual scepticism, it hit Arthur that four years running was not a coincidence. Someone was trying to tell him something.

 

He had downed his wine and had one leg over the balcony railing before Morgana caught him.

 

“Arthur, we’re three storeys up in the air, what the hell are you doing?”

 

Reluctantly, Arthur saw that she had a point and swung his leg back over. He pointed down at the man in the crowd.

 

“I’ve seen that guy every Pride for four years now, Morgana,” he explained, or rather slurred, “I’ve got to talk to him.” Morgana squinted into the crowd.

 

“What,  _ Merlin _ ?”

 

Arthur grabbed her arms and shook her lightly.

 

“You’ve known him  _ this whole time _ and you  _ haven’t introduced me _ ?”

 

“And I’m certainly not going to do so when you’re in this state,” Morgana told him reprovingly. Arthur let go of her and folded his arms moodily.

 

“Alright,” Morgana told him, “You are kind of endearing. I’ll get you some coffee, then I’ll invite him up.”

 

Merlin in person, right in front of him, was just as stunning as Arthur had remembered. He started to smile before Merlin raised an accusing finger at him.

 

“Your brother is the arsehole who nearly knocked me over five years ago?”

 

“Okay,” Arthur said, “One, it was four years ago. And two, you disappeared before I had a chance to offer to buy you a drink to make up for it.”

 

“If I remember rightly,” Merlin said, his anger winding up even further, “You accused me of not looking where I was going, and you were far more interested in looking at your phone than me.”

 

“Morgana called me!” Arthur said, not one to back down from a challenge.

 

“And then last year you  _ kissed a guy at me. _ Who even  _ does _ that?”

 

“That does sound pretty weird, Arthur,” Morgana said with a frown.

 

“And I left Lance with the banner for this,” Merlin huffed, “Morgana, I’m pretty sure I asked you if he was an arsehole.” Morgana shrugged a little.

 

“He’s hot, if that helps?”

 

“Not in the slightest,” Merlin said crossly, and he made to turn to go.

 

“Wait, please-” Arthur said, “Four years in a row, that’s got to be more than a coincidence.”

 

Merlin turned in the doorway and glared at Arthur.

 

“Sometimes, Arthur, things are just coincidences.”

 

\---

 

This year, Arthur was far from alone at Pride. He’d been a donor for Mind since he’d first started work, but now his friends were starting to settle down and he had increasing amounts of free time, he’d decided to start volunteering. They’d asked him to march with him, and initially he’d been hesitant. But one of the girls had convinced him - he’d only be one of the crowd, he’d be wearing a Mind t-shirt so he wouldn’t have to look ridiculous, and he wouldn’t even have to hold a sign. She’d subsequently drawn rainbows on his cheeks, but it didn’t feel too bad. He couldn’t even notice that they were there.

 

He was walking the parade route with the group when it happened. One minute, he’d been dancing badly to Spice Girls songs that some float was playing, the next everything was chaos. A woman holding a transgender rights placard, and the drag queen next to her, were covered in raw egg. There were few police officers stationed around this part of the route, and they had gone rushing to the aid of the victims. Arthur followed a gash opening up in the crowd with his eyes, and he ran. He vaulted over the barriers and sprinted off after the muscular middle-aged man he could only assume was the culprit before his fellow homophobic protesters could fall back and protect him.

 

Arthur grabbed him by the shirt, right between the shoulderblades, and then shoved him against a nearby shop window.

 

“Did you want a fight?” Arthur asked. He was six foot tall, and very muscular, but he looked almost evenly matched against the man.

 

“I'm here, and I'm ready for a fight you piece of scum,” Arthur said. The man weighed up his options, his chances against a man brimming with rage, whose eyes lit up with pure anger above pretty painted rainbows. He slumped back against the wall.

 

“You know, people like you, you fight and you rail against us for corrupting your children or whatever, but you know what? The only person responsible for corrupting anything is you. People like you cause so much damage, making gay kids feel worthless and wrong. People like you,” Arthur undid his watch strap and uncovered his wrist, shoving a thick white scar in front of the man's eyes, “Are responsible for this. What I do hurts no one. What you do kills. You make me sick.”

 

Arthur turned around to leave him and rejoin the parade, to come face to face with a sheepish looking Merlin.

 

“So, Mind, huh?”

 

They sat in Soho square later, with a six pack of cider Merlin had bought to apologise for being so quick to judge. Arthur had left his watch off, and was slowly acclimatising himself to his scar’s presence, not yet out in the air, but resting under the warmth of Merlin's thumb.

 

“My father disowned me when he found gay porn hidden on my laptop. He said it was that or conversion therapy, and I had only just got to a place where I was comfortable with who I was, so I-”

 

“You left?” Arthur nodded.

 

“And then I was lost for a while. I blamed everything that went wrong in my life on liking men. It was only when Morgana found me, and I was lucky she did, with one slashed wrist that I knew I had to get help. The hospital put me in touch with Mind, who then spoke to a local charity to get me funding for my degree. That was when my life really started.”

 

“Oh, Arthur, I'm so sorry,” Merlin said. Arthur shook his head.

 

“Don't be. It was awful, but it made me. Sometimes I do wish I had a funny coming out story, but-”

 

“I have one of them!” Merlin said, pleased for the change in topic but still holding onto Arthur's wrist. Arthur thought he quite liked that. He liked the way Merlin's eyes lit up when he talked about his childhood best friend who knew before he did about Merlin's sexuality, liked his laugh, liked the shadow of his Adam's apple when he swallowed. They talked until it grew cold in the evening, and the six pack was gone, then Merlin gave Arthur his number and made him promise to call.

 

\---

 

“Where the hell is he?” Morgana muttered, then put her phone to her ear again. “Arthur Pendragon, I have told you before and I will tell you again - Oxford Street on Pride is busy!”

 

“Sorry, Morgana,” Arthur said, in stereo through the phone and his sister's other ear, “I got a little caught up.” His hand clasped around Merlin's, and the wide grin on his face that was reserved for his boyfriend told her exactly what he'd been caught up with.

 

“Eew, boys,” Morgana said, turning back to her girlfriend. Arthur laughed and wrapped an arm around Merlin's shoulders as they turned to watch the parade.

 

“Do you still stand by what you said about coincidences?”

 

“Well,” Merlin said shrugging, and leaning over to kiss Arthur, “This one was a good coincidence.”


End file.
